Jabberwock Jack

by Dennis Liggio

  "Delilah will be handling our gear down there," said Jericho. "Weapons, electronics, supplies. Think of her as our quartermaster. You need anything or are running out of something, you talk to her. She'll also be handling all our electronic tracking gear and facilitating our communication with Paulie when it's available. We expect we'll be out of range for communication with him most of time, so she'll handle any problems we have down there."

  "I'll be meeting with you all to make sure your gear is up to spec, and if it's not, we'll see what we can get you," said Delilah.

  "The rest of us will not be specialized, but we are all skilled in hunting various beasts," said Jericho. "Meat, Mikkel, and Szandor have all shown me their worth. Fala will be coming as my advisor. That is non negotiable." The way he said that made it sound like someone, probably Meat or Paulie, had already brought up not bringing her.

  "Any questions, come to me," said Jericho. "Everyone make sure you talk to Delilah and set your affairs in order." That one line sent a chill through me. "We leave in an hour."

  As everyone broke up and started walking around, Szandor turned to me.

  "I've got a bad feeling about this," he said.

  My head was still fuzzy but improving. "You've got a bad feeling? Isn't that usually my job?"

  "I'm just saying," said Szandor. "The Undersystem? A whole group of highly armed hunters? I just don't see this going off without a hitch. And by hitch, I mean there's going to be some huge fucking problem, mark my words."

  I looked over to where Jericho was talking with Fala. He looked as grim as always. "I don't think even Jericho expects it to go off without a hitch. This is going to be dangerous." I rubbed my forehead. "But sea serpent. Once in a lifetime opportunity." We were repeating that a lot. It was like our mantra to convince ourselves it was worth the risk.

  Szandor nodded. "I guess we might as well do this while we're young and stupid. Before we realize we should know better. Still. Set your affairs in order." He imitated Jericho's gravely serious voice for this quote. "Yeah, we get it. Don't go full on Old Man In the Horror Movie serious on us. Next he's going to tell us there's a storm coming."

  I nodded, but my mind was back on Carly. A full bottle of whiskey and a morning talking about impossible to kill monsters hadn't deleted her from my mind. Putting my affairs in order just made me think about her again. She definitely wouldn't want to know I was doing this. The danger - the stupid danger of hunting had always been a huge point of contention with us.

  Szandor snapped his fingers in front of my face. "Hello? You with us? Do we need to get some of Dr. Geezob's Hangover Cure in you? I brought some in my flask in case you needed it."

  For some reason, Szandor had recently become obsessed with hangover cures. His youthful vigor that previously made him immune to hangovers had seemed to disappear recently and he realized that hangovers really suck. But rather than follow the obvious solution of drinking less, he instead took to the internet, looking for every half-baked voodoo cure for hangovers. No amount of lacking science would deter him. He was going to find a hangover cure if it killed him. Dr. Geezob's Hangover Cure, some strange mixture of household liquids I'd rather not know, was his latest attempt. He swore it worked, but I had seen him after using it. He was simply hopped up on sugar and caffeine, not miraculously cured.

  "I think I'm good, thanks," I said. "I'm just going to send a text."

  Szandor rolled his eyes. "The last thing you need before doing this is to be thinking about her. She hates all this. She's going to mess with your confidence. You need your game face here. Game Face." Szandor pointed to his own face with both hands, showing a very serious expression.

  "Jericho said to set our affairs in order," I said.

  "Texting her wouldn't be putting that affair in order, it would be putting it in disorder. It's poking the wasp's nest, opening the fucking can of worms. But these are flesh eating worms or like... I dunno, poison wasps. Poison wasps of eeeeeeevil!"

  "Maybe just a simple text," I said. "To say I'm thinking of her."

  "She knows you're thinking of her. She's thinking of you. She knows you have a heartbroken hangover right now the same way you know she's out with her friends having brunch at that fucking restaurant and receiving sympathy talks on why she shouldn't get back together with you."

  Carly was a fan of brunch at a particular restaurant in Midtown. Overpriced food with a high style interior, it also boasted the fact they served mimosas regardless of the hour. Carly and her college friends used to make pilgrimages to it regularly as their thing. Carly brought me there a few times as well. I thought it was okay, but nothing special.

  "Best Friend Tabitha's, the restaurant is Best Friend Tabitha's," I said. I had brought Szandor one time, thinking maybe he'd get along with one of Carly's friends, and he hated it. He had loudly stated that he thought mimosas were the worst thing to ever happen to alcohol. Carly's friends had gasped as if they were offended high society people dropping monocles, and the whole experience was a tense and unpleasant brunch after that.

  "Whatever," he said. "You're going to text her, she'll check it, show her friends, and then they'll make that high pitched gossiping noise they make when in a large group. Some sort of herd behavior or something. Then they'll talk about that and why you're wrong for an hour. Don't do it, man. Not worth it. Game face. Gaaaame faaace!" He pointed to his own serious face again.

  I shook my head but conceded the point. "I'll text her later." Szandor stared at me with a raised eyebrow. "Maybe." I struggled to my feet, feeling the new blood flow which helped my hangover. "Let's find out what gear we need."

  We walked over to Delilah, who was talking to Diego. He seemed to be trying to flirt with her, and he was putting it on rather heavy. She was on the shy side when we had last met her, so I wasn't sure if his moves were wanted. Either way, we needed to talk to her before we went down in the depths, so I interrupted.

  "Hey Delilah! Where's Dixie at?" I figured it was a worthwhile question. When we last met Delilah, Dixie was a partner. I would be surprised to hear they had a huge falling out, but there had been no sign of Dixie.

  "She's out of the area," said Delilah. "Looking for a lost friend. Another hunter. But not an Avalon hunter."

  "Oh, one of those damn Traditional hunters," said Szandor.

  "You got a problem with Traditional hunters?" countered Diego.

  Monster hunters come in two different varieties: Traditional and New Avalon. Traditional hunters are probably what you've heard about before. Like I mentioned, they're the Van Helsings of the world. They're men, women, and families hunting monsters out of myth and legend, keeping the world safe from threats all over the world for hundreds of years. New Avalon hunters focus on the monsters in the New Avalon basin and the surrounding areas. There are many theories, but for some unknown reason, New Avalon has a preponderance of monsters compared to just about anywhere else in the world. Even stranger is that our monsters are different from the ones in the rest of the world. What New Avalon has are unique to Avalon. The rest of the world has their own variety, nearly consistent across the world. Supposedly they get real vampires, not just revenants. Their trolls are more like legend. Since their monsters are spread out, Traditional hunters are world travelers. Some hunters do both, but most Avalon hunters stay here; there's enough work here and they don't have to remember monster variations.

  Of course, when you work one sort of thing, you get blinders for the other types. So there was typically Traditional vs Avalon hunter friction. Traditionals often suggested Avalon monsters weren't really monsters; those went along with Paulie and Meat's theory that Avalon monsters are government experiment, maybe from Fort Edgar. Of course, even if true, they're still monsters and kill people. I'm not sure why this would be a reason to dismiss them. Then there's the fact that since New Avalon is only around two centuries old, our hunting traditions are younger. Of course, everything's younger when you have some asshole Traditionals who claim to be descended from Egypti
an crocodile demon hunters. On the Avalon side, some of us are a little... let's say "disbelieving" of traditional monsters. Szandor and I have never seen a werewolf and never seen an actual vampire. So having never seen them, only heard about them from dismissive assholes, we start calling bullshit on whether they actually exist. It may be that they're just what we see here and they're talking up the slightly different monster qualities to make their work seem more special. I'm a little more forgiving, but Szandor sometimes doesn't think Traditional monsters exist at all.

  "Dunno, what have you hunted?" said Szandor. "Found the Jersey Devil yet? What about Bigfoot? Nessie?" Even most Traditional hunters say those don't exist.

  Diego sneered, but smiled. "I actually led a hunt in the New Jersey Pine Barrens looking for the Jersey Devil. Not sure if it was the Jersey Devil, but we found the well-preserved body of a winged Saurian in the mud."

  "No shit?" said Szandor, actually impressed. "Like a flying dinosaur dude?"

  "Something like that," said Diego. "Point is, we found something. I'm not in this to kill creatures, I'm in this to hunt things and find out what they are. I'll admit, I want to see this sea serpent. It's brought me to New Avalon, and I'm obviously the dude that doesn't know as much. I haven't hunted any Avalon monsters. I've killed some Traditionals and that's all I know, but I'm not here to act like an ass."

  Szandor nodded solemnly. I think he had a new best friend. I'm pretty sure it's because Diego saw a dead flying dinosaur dude.

  "Del, what equipment do we need for this?" I said.

  "You two," Delilah began, shaking her finger at us, "I knew you two would be my main project. This guy," gesturing to Diego, "he's travelled the world. He knows what he's doing. You two look like you gear up at Home Depot and thrift stores."

  I'm sure we wanted to give some snarky response to that, but it was mostly true. Add the internet onto that list and it was pretty accurate.

  "I guess let's start at the beginning," she said. "Camping gear. Got tents?"

  "Tents? Why do we need tents?" asked Szandor.

  Delilah shook her head with a smile. "I wish he had said more. This may be a protracted job. We'll come up when we can, but we may spend days down there. We may need to sleep overnight underground."

  Szandor and I shared a look. We probably had the same uncomfortable feeling about setting up a tent and just sleeping somewhere in the Undersystem.

  "Yeah we have one," I said. The tent we used when learning from Tor was still in the van outside.

  "Climbing gear? Ropes, harnesses, carabiners?"

  "Cara-whats?" asked Szandor.

  Delilah harrumphed and pushed a bunch of rock climbing gear into Szandor's arms. "Let's see, what else? Trackers." She handed us each what looked at first glance like dog tags. I saw that they were two electronic pieces in cheap plastic casings. "These give off a signal, like your katana. If you get lost, we can hopefully find you. Also we can coordinate tactics because I can get you on the scanner."

  "We get a scanner?" said Szandor. "That's so cool!"

  "No. You two," she said pointing two of her fingers at us with a headshake, "you don't get a scanner. I get a scanner. You two just get trackers. You'd break the damn scanner."

  "It's still kind of cool," said Szandor glumly.

  "Radios," she said, handing them to us. Walkies and ear pieces. Fancy. "Probably not going to get much use unless we split up. But like the tracker, useful if you get lost. Last thing any of us want to be are hurt and alone with no rescue down there."

  "No fucking shit," said Szandor slowly, not being antagonistic to what she said, but more of expressing how terrible that idea was for any of us to imagine.

  "Gas masks and breathers?" asked Delilah.

  "Oh fuck yeah we have gas masks," said Szandor.

  "We could use a few spare carbon filters if you got them," I said.

  "Night vision?" she said. "I2 probably won't be enough down there. Thermal or some sort of fusion only."

  "We're not doing lamps?" I asked. Even with night vision, a lightless void down there gave me cold chills.

  "We are, we just should all have thermals for stalking. No use trying to sneak up on a creature in a normally pitch black area with lamps, right? So do you have anything?"

  "We've got these," said Szandor, showing her the green lens goggles he had around his neck. We knew they could see in total darkness, but we had no idea of their spec. There was no readable writing or brand on them. We just received them mysteriously in the mail one day. They just worked and were light weight, so we kept them.

  "What? Those lenses are too thin," she said, grabbing the goggles and yanking Szandor's neck forward. She looked through the lenses. "Those... surprisingly work. Huh. I might want to look at these later. They're way too light for what they do. Should be much heavier."

  "But they do work," I said. "Even in total darkness."

  She looked at me with disbelief and then shrugged. "Your loss if they don't work later. Okay, what crappy weapons do you think you'll be using?"

  "Lead pipe?" suggested Szandor.

  "Nope," she said.

  "Crowbar?"

  "Nope."

  "Baseball bat with a nail in it?"

  "Nope."

  "Shotgun?"

  "With your aim? Hahahaha. No."

  "I don't know, then," conceded Szandor.

  She turned to me. "What do you think you're using?"

  "Whatever you think I should be using," I said, realizing how this would go.

  "Smart answer," she said.

  Delilah reached into a gray plastic box, much like the others she was pulling stuff from. She pulled an impressive weapon out and put it on top of all the other things Szandor was carrying in his arms. It was somewhat like a crossbow, but without the wide arms. It was somewhat like a gun, just with a gigantic arrow-like head in front.

  "Spear gun," said Delilah.

  "Spear gun!" said Szandor in a voice that contained both fear and excitement.

  "Why a spear gun?" I said.

  "It' a solid weapon that's less likely to break if dropped," she said. "It's got a single high powered shot, which will be useful on the tough hide Jack is likely to have. While I'm bringing my P90, I would really prefer we have some weaponry putting a large bolt in the enemy in case my bullets are easily ignored. And let's be honest. We're going into an area I hear will have lots of drainage. The spear gun will work underwater and even if not using it underwater, we don't have to worry about it getting ruined if it gets wet. Though, Szandor, if I end up with a spear bolt through any part of me, I will end you, you understand?" Her eyes were very intense.

  Szandor swallowed and nodded. His poor aim was a matter of public record.

  "So then what do I get?" I said.

  Delilah reached into her box... and pulled out another spear gun.

  "Ha!" said Szandor. "It's not just me! You suck too!"

  Delilah shook her head. "It's just where we're at. We're going after a large, water-friendly creature. We're not bringing scuba gear, but if we need to shoot through water, this is going to be better than conventional arms. And we want to keep real gunfire to a minimum. Even with suppressers, there's not a lot of noise down there. Sounds will echo. If we fire a gun, we might as well be saying come get us to everything down there. Spear guns are fine for you two and will reduce the noise footprint."

  "Anything else we need?" I said, taking the spear gun.

  "Ammo and rations," she said. "Here's some MREs." She stacked the ammo and food allotments for both Szandor and I on the gigantic stack of items he was struggling to hold. "That should be it. You two should get ready."

  We turned away. I took a few steps before I turned around and saw my brother was walking much slower. The shifting bundle of items in his arms was making it hard to walk.

  "Just what have we got ourselves into?" he said.

  "Once in a lifetime opportunity," I reminded him.

  "I'm hoping that it's not because our lifetime
s will be so short," he said.

  Down

  Once we were all ready, our backpacks overflowing with gear, we got into our vehicles. While we could have gotten into the tunnels from Jericho's building, we'd have many miles of underground to go through. We needed an entry point closer to the action. While Szandor and I usually go down any manhole in an alley that we know gets us to a known place on our maps, on this trip we couldn't do that. We had too many people and too much gear. Someone was going to notice us crowded into an alley and that would be a problem. Luckily, Meat had us covered. He had a connection in Chinatown.

  Szandor was still driving the van. I was feeling much more like myself, but he still didn't trust my hangover. I didn't trust him handling the Pork Chop Express on wet roads, but his argument carried more weight, since I was still acting sort of spacey. I decided instead to pull out my phone and finally text Carly.

  "You're doing that shit again?" said Szandor.

  "We're doing something dangerous. I just wanna say something. I don't want last night to be the last thing we had." I paused. "Also I think brunch is over now."

  "She'll just put you off your game," said Szandor. "She's gonna get you killed."

  What's worse than the return of hot button issues and arguments with Carly? The return of hot button issues and arguments with Szandor about Carly. That my brother and my girlfriend-now-ex-girlfriend-maybe-girlfriend-someday didn't like each other was not a strange thing. That's just something that happens in people's lives. The ironic twist of the universe was that they both accused each other of the ultimate cause of getting me killed. Szandor said that she put me off my game, she killed my reflexes, she made me distant. All those things could kill me in the moment. I understand his argument, but I don't think it would happen. I would think wanting to return to her would keep me alive.

  Carly's argument was that my brother was extremely reckless and that he'd get me killed with his antics. I understood this too. Szandor depended on luck and a begrudging bravery far more often than he should. He loved danger, despite his public attitude of reluctance toward it. The Does Szandor Have A Deathwish? question was one bandied around by Paulie, Meat, and myself when my brother wasn't around. I personally don't think he consciously had one, but unconsciously? Maybe. He even jokes about it. And Carly has called him on it, something that didn't help their relationship.